My Stranded Sanity: A Niall Horan Fanfiction

Chapter 2

  A steady series of beeping drummed throughout a room that I could tell was solitary in. The atmosphere felt strange and uncomfortable, like somewhere you wouldn't visit too often. I could tell.The constant noise was like a pulse. I could hear it. It also felt like someone's nervous hand was shaking on mine, someone was touching me. I couldn't see it. In fact, I couldn't see anything. Whoever this person was, was silent. No noise, not a squeak escaped the body. He wasn't talking, he wasn't crying, he was silent and I'm not to sure how to interpret that. I'm assuming it's a he; the hands are large and rough, covering up my entire hand. The finger tips were scratched up and hard, not soft and smooth like a girl's. They didn't have any wrinkles in their hand and it was warm, but still shaking like they were scared. The large thumb massaged circles into the back of my hand, and I felt a warm but refreshing drop of water in my skin that startled me. They sniffed and now I'm certain it's a guy. He was crying.

 One problem. I'm unconscious. I've come to conclusion that I'm unconscious, and this guy is holding my hand, silently crying. A door clicked and the padding of shoes thudded around the room. I could hear their shirt make a noise, swishing in his movement to look at the new body in the room.

  "Sir, I'm afraid visiting hours are over. You can come back in the morning, alright? We need to run some tests and we'll keep you boys updated with Nicole. Sound okay?" a female voice interrupted the silence that felt like communication to me. Her voice was smooth and nice, she must've been a nurse. The boy sniffled.

  "Can I have just another 20 minutes?" A scratchy and weak voice silently erupted from the soul. The voice sounded distant and vacant. The nurse must've made a gesture that signalled no. The boy sighed, and I could feel his eyes like lazors on my face. His hand moved off of mine, leaving my skin cold and exposed and alone, and something emptied inside of me.

"Please come back soon."  he whispers. A chair squeaks on a tiled floor and I hear his feet shuffle. I listened carefully to the way he walked until he was far enough to where I couldn't hear his shoes anymore. 

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 I felt a cold finger press into the skin below my jaw. And another on the center of my wrist. A circular metal disk pressed onto my chest. I felt someone put a suction cup on my forehead and something that felt like close pins on my finger tips. I couldn't speak. I wanted to ask a million questions and it seemed to be torture to not let them be released. It's not that I'm forbidden to speak, I literally can't. I have lost the physical capability to speak. Every time I try, it takes a lot of energy and I can't seem to do it. The same thing applies to when I try to peel open my eyelids. They feel as if they've been super glued shut. It frustrates me, really. There's people crowded around me, in all directions. I can't seem to escape them. They're all touching me, and it's totally silent. The only noises occupying the room is the intimidating breathing of the doctors and nurses and the steady imitation of my pulse. One of them speak. 

 "She's waking up." they discover. They all acknowledge the fact and a chorus of "Yes, yes." "Hmm." and "I see" 's sing in the empty and dull atmosphere. They all back away and I feel like it's the first time I've taken a nice, cool fresh breath. Their body heat and scent of rubber and cheap hand sanitizer was making me nauseous . I want to get up. I want to scream "HEY! I CAN HEAR YOU!" in their faces. I want to run away. I want to open my eyes and see where I am. I want to move and run and walk and sit and stand and just... move. But more importantly, I wanna know who that boy is. I wanna know why it was important for him to show up at my bed, holding my hand and crying over me, wishing I would wake up already. Wishing he could have an extra 20 minutes to hold my cold, dead hands and cry over me. I want to know who's crisp, fresh and warm accent that was, who it belonged to. I've never heard one like it. Why I felt so weird, and strangely comfortable when he was here. I felt.. at peace. And I felt fluttery and flattered. I felt really weird and curious and about every single emotion you could possible rummage out of your brain. Most likely can accurately relate to me. 

 But all I can do is just lay here, lifeless. Like I'm half dead. I feel dead. I feel confused, and alone. But I also feel happy and loved. I mean, someone felt that they needed to come to my bed side, and felt comfortable enough to hold my hand, even if I was unconcious. They felt they should cry and get emotional over me, when I didn't even do anything to make anyone upset or sad or angry or anything, I didn't talk to many people besides Judith. I didn't talk to anyone besides Judith, in all honesty. Occasionally I'd talk to the other patients in the hospital at lunch time, or when we went down to play games, or the people who work there. I never wish to go back there. Ever. 

 Then again, I don't really desire to be here either. But I don't really have a choice now. 

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A/N: omg hi i haven't updated in SO LONG and school work has become EXTREMELY OVERWHELMING and i have not been able to beat my flappy bird score and that makes me REALLY ANGRY because i REALLY FUCKING SUCK AT FLAPPY BIRD!!!!!!!!!! 

ugh wEll thank u all for reading this ilyasm and PLEASE REMEMBER TO VOTE AND READ AND LIKE AND COMMENT AND EVERYTHING IN THAT NATuRE PLe    EASE 

and shoutouts toooooooo marianne and emmy for reminding me that judith's name was judith bc i cannot remember ANYTHING 

goodbye

~molly~